The Doctor and The Captain
by Courtesy
Summary: The tail-ends of a series of conversations between the Captain and Delbert during their developing relationship.
1. Conversation 1

**Disclaimer**: You know something? I know that you know that I know that you know that I don't own these Disney characters, so I'm not even going to confuse you with a disclaimer.

**Author's Note:** This is my first real attempt at anything fluffy between the Captain and the Doctor, and therefore this story is relatively short, compared to some of my other stories. I hope it isn't too silly and that the characters don't seem forced. These two are such opposites, so I actually had quite a time writing this story, but that also made this one of the more challenging stories I've written. I hope you enjoy it, and please review! I really appreciate constructive criticisms!

**The Doctor And The Captain**

The hospital room that housed, at the moment, the swiftly recovering Captain Amelia, had been quiet for the most part, with longer or shorter periods of conversation depending on the topic, for a time that had run together into the period of half-an-hour. Doctor Delbert Doppler was in the room, making one of his many random, but very welcome, visits to the Captain, to check the recovery of what used to be a delirious patient of his. Doppler had talked with her this visit as he had every other visit; the only difference had been his unprecedented length of company, toward which Amelia had not yet shown any sign of disapproval. But since it had been half-an-hour, Doppler began to consider her position, and decided with some reluctance that it might be time to make his departure.

As he stood from the chair at the right of the hospital bed in which Amelia rested, however, she addressed him unexpectedly:

"Doctor."

"Y-yes?" Doppler stopped abruptly

"You... you're leaving," the Captain said. It sounded like a statement, but Doppler regarded her for a small moment, and realized it was more so a question.

"I..." he began, trailing off. For a tenth of a second he was distracted by the glinting emerald eyes that could soften him as well as they could mock him. Then, noting his mouth was slightly open, he swallowed and said, "...I thought that you would like some time by yourself..."

Amelia shifted her gaze and then met him square in the eye again. "...Ah. Very well, Doctor." Her sentence ended with a silent snap, making Doppler think she had intended to say more, but at the last minute had decided against it. Tentatively, he shifted his weight. "I... could stay, if you—"

"No, no," Amelia broke in. "If you would like to go..."

"If you would like me to stay..."

There was dead lull. Both looked at each other as if expecting the other to make the decision: to go, to be sent away, to stay, or to be gestured back to the seat beside the bed. Doppler found himself once again somewhat distracted by the shimmering pools of Amelia's green eyes, and suddenly felt the urge to break her gaze and clean his glasses, but at the same moment couldn't look away. Instead, he cleared his throat, which shattered the silence and seemed to knock them both into reality again. Simultaneously, Amelia consented that Doppler could stay and Doppler suggested that he would go.

"Oh—" Doppler made the sound of something between an awkward laugh and a croak. Amelia chuckled and massaged her eyes. "I'm sorry, Doctor... which will it be?"

"...I believe...I'll stay."

His unexpected decision seemed to surprise Amelia a little. She watched him quietly as he sat in the chair next to her hospital bed again.

"You're very decisive all of a sudden, Doctor."

"Delbert."

"I'm sorry?"

"You can..." and Doppler trailed off again, realizing that not only was he was giving her permission to address him informally, with his first name, but also that he had initially proposed the idea by correcting her with it. A bright scarlet scorched his cheeks for a moment. _Very well played_, he told himself. _What will she think of you now? You're getting much too bold—impudent—around her; I think you'd better be quiet._

But another part of him argued that since he'd already begun, he might as well finish, and avoid looking even more foolish by failing to continue his sentence. This, he deduced, was reasonable, and so with a breath, he finished his thought.

"You can... call me Delbert."

Amelia raised both her eyebrows. He could not read whether she was impressed or scandalized by what he'd said, but he found more than enough courage to sit there and still look at her, which was enough of a marvel to impress him, at least.

"...Delbert."

To his surprise, she said his name musingly, with a tone of respect for the untried word. He watched her think for an instant about it, sampling the aftertaste of the name, and then heard her laugh once. "You're a bold fellow, Doctor Doppler."

The absence of his first name, which had seemingly been so happily tried just a moment ago, was not very reassuring for Doppler.

"...Am I?"

"I should say so."

"W-why... Why should you say so?"

Amelia looked at him as if she thought he should already know the reason. He stared at her with what he hoped was placidity, but on the inside, he was panicky. There was a little taunting voice in the back of his mind that kept chanting, "I don't like saying I told you so, but I _told_ you so!" In all honesty, he was pretty sure he knew the reason why he was a bold fellow, but to hear her say it specifically would confirm for him that he shouldn't have remained at all, that he would never again suggest that she call him Delbert, and that their relationship would never, ever evolve into anything beyond friends.

Amelia was smiling. "You've proposed this without so much as a word, or even some gesture of forewarning. If you keep up this ability to go unread and surprise me like that, I can assure you, we won't get along too well." Her voice hinted at an impressed tone.

Doppler, encouraged by her smile, edged a cautious grin upon his own lips. "Well, if that's the case, then I can assure you we'll get along just fine... I'm prone to being very obvious in my intentions."

"Are you?" She leaned over the metal bar of the hospital bed a bit to catch his eyes in a very tight lock, and asked slowly, "And just what sort of intentions are you prone to?"

Doppler laughed stiffly. He decided his face was too close to Amelia's to be polite, and made to lean back in the chair to put more distance between them. This, however, he found he could not do; he was already tethered again to her beautiful eyes. "...I...uh... Intentions?... In...Intentions I will admit to having, but what sort of intentions are..."

_Classified_? _Esoteric? Ambiguous? Indecorous? No... _

"...Punctilious."

"Punctilious?"

"Punctilious. That's all right, isn't it?"

Amelia narrowed her eyes, seemingly slightly disconcerted, and straightened entirely before folding her arms. "Indisputably."

A reigning silence ensued for a dragging while. Doppler sat, his hands wringing in his lap, contemplating what he'd just said. Had he just told her she ought to call him Delbert? Had she just asked him what sort of intentions he was prone to have, and had he just answered that they tended to be _punctilious_? Never had he felt so inept and embarrassed; this, he decided with decisiveness, was truly the worst day he'd ever had in his entire life.

But!--on the other hand, he _was_ sitting in front of the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld, and she had only minutes ago leaned suggestively over her bedside railing a little to look closely at him. Surely, then, it was not his absolute _worst_ day.

With this thought, he began to study her. Optimistically, he considered, she must have found him as compelling as he so consistently found her, otherwise she would not have leaned toward him in such a manner. Then, pessimistically, he threw that thought its length upon the floor, certain now that that was not the case at all. She had simply been teasing him-- _mocking_ him, as she so commonly did.

Now somewhat nettled, he cleared his throat, which she must have been unprepared for, since he saw one of her ears flap quickly at the noise, as if in a sudden, but severely controlled, action of surprise. He then watched her eyes slide carelessly in his general direction, as if she knew perfectly well that he cleared his throat often before he spoke, and therefore was expecting him to say something.

His mind spun quickly, thinking hurriedly of what he might tell this woman. He could tell her the weather was nice. No, that would not be an impressive topic. He could discuss the ongoing motifs of the novel _A_ _Tale of Two Cities_ by Charles Dickens, or the interchangeable reasoning of the philosophy of Transcendentalism. He pushed these out of his head, thinking that perhaps he would tip a conversation toward emotions and romantic, abstract concepts, and less toward academics. He could rattle out the percentage of people who had gotten married last month on Montressor, for he thought he could remember reading about it somewhere. Then he frightened himself, wondering where the thought of marriage had come from, and immediately diverted his attention back to the weather.

Her gaze had remained trained at his direction, but she suddenly seemed unattainable; like her mind had drifted towards other things, and she only appeared to be still present. He was boring her, he decided heavily, and, severely bemused and discouraged, rubbed his chin.

"What are you thinking about?" he blurted, startling himself with the sound of his own voice.

She looked at him again, squarely. It conjured a stinging swell of an emotion in Doppler that he was unused to, and he coughed gently at the feeling. Amelia smiled subtly. "I was thinking about your name."

"I'm—_what_?" he choked. He must have been surprised, but the feeling that Amelia had summoned within him was dulling any other emotion.

She actually laughed. It was a quiet, almost gentle laugh; not a chuckle that could easily mean more derision than genuine amusement. Short-lived as it was, it raised Doppler's confidence to such a great height that his head felt as though it hovered twenty feet above his body. He swallowed.

"Your _name_, Doctor... You remember it, of course?" she said, her left eyebrow rising.

Doppler, blinking, replied, "I think so."

Amelia continued thoughtfully, after regarding him for a moment. "I've never heard you say it. Somehow, I knew what it was-- I glanced at it in the brief description of your spacing career, perhaps, on board the Legacy—but I've never heard you really _say_ it."

"And I haven't heard your name mentioned to me more than once by you, personally," he commented, realizing that what she had said was true, that she hadn't heard him mention his own first name. In fact, she hadn't let him; merely, when they had met, she had correctly presumed him to be the financier of the voyage. He had never actually introduced himself. He accused her blandly, "You almost never refer to your name."

"Well," Amelia stated, "I don't want to concede free liberty with my name among my hands, do I?"

Doppler furrowed his brow in light confusion. "You considered _me_ a _hand_?"

"No," Amelia answered, with no pause for consideration. "But you know as well as I do: Special treatment for one, special treatment for all. I don't play the favorite on my ship."

"So even though I was paying for the voyage, I received just as much special treatment as, say, the cabin boy?"

Amelia smiled. "Exactly."

Doppler, his head still levitating twenty feet above him, bravely leaned just slightly closer to Amelia. "If I may be so bold," he said slowly, almost cautiously, "we're not on a ship anymore."

Amelia looked at him. Her tone was light and humorous, but she was regarding him with a kind of intent quality. "When I'm off a ship, I try to keep my attitude toward playing the favorite close to what I hold while I'm on one. 'On Earth as it is in Heaven', you understand."

Doppler chuckled, inching slightly closer. "Still, there might be slight exceptions..."

"_Slight_ exceptions..." Amelia consented, her countenance changing almost imperceptibly. Doppler gathered a final momentum of courage and leaned in close enough to hear her breathe gently. To his shock, and somewhat to his relief, she made no move to replace the distance between them. "And just when are you prone to making exceptions...?" he asked slowly.

Her smile spread unhurriedly across her face, her teeth flashing a bedazzling white for only a moment. "_Rarely _does the integrity to my routine beliefs fail me," she said slowly. "But the phenomenon does occur at times..."

Doppler, a dissatisfaction gradually encompassing him, inched closer. "And recently... has your integrity to your routine beliefs failed you...?"

"...It has..."

It was the closest to this divine creature Doppler had ever been. Oddly, he did not feel out of place or in some heavenly, evanescent dream; in fact, he had never felt closer to a place he was supposed to be in his life. He heard Amelia softly inhale, and then, gently, she spoke:

"...I think you should leave..."

Doppler felt his head fall twenty feet above him and land with a painful flop inside his stomach. He tensed in an instant, and saw with blinding vivacity how close to Captain Amelia he had inched. Panicked and embarrassed in less than a moment, he had put more than a foot between their faces with such a hurry that he beat Amelia to an upright position. He was then standing over her, with no memory of regaining his feet, and choked a moment, trying to speak, at least trying to voice some apology, no matter how croaky or halting it would be. Amelia was looking at him, eyebrows raised placidly. He coughed and cleared his throat, and then headed for the door.

"Doctor..." Amelia said loudly.

"No, no. I really should be off. It's probably late. You're probably tired. I've probably stayed too long for either of our own good..."

"Doctor."

He was halfway toward the door.

"Doctor."

He had reached the threshold.

"_Delbert_."

He stopped in one rigid jolt.

Doppler turned stiffly around to face the inside of the room again in astonishment. Had he heard her correctly? Surely, he had not; she had said something that merely _sounded_ like Delbert. After a careful search, however, he could not think of any word in his vocabulary that sounded like 'Delbert' except the word 'deliberate', which was not close enough. He chanced a quick look at her. She was watching him expectantly, in an almost curious, amused manner, and he wondered grimly if she were waiting for him to speak.

After a careful consideration, he amalgamated every nerve in his body that might supply him courage, and said hesitantly, "Y...Y-yes?"

One cat-like ear had been lifted slightly higher than the other was as she looked at him. She, too, seemed to have undergone some brief consideration. Her posture never changed, her voice never hushed, her countenance never faltered, but for a small period of time, he thought he could perceive a gentle affection in her eyes. She took him in from where he stood, halfway in and halfway out of the door, and he was taken slightly aback when she at last said evenly, "...Goodnight, Delbert."

'Delbert', to his secret delight, sounded just as natural as 'Doctor'.


	2. Conversation 2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Author's Note:** Here it is, a continuation to the fluff. A little fluffier than the first conversation, I think—I rather surprised myself.

I'd like to explain first: I posted this story with the intention of it being a one-shot, but after a few people suggested I continue the story, I realized that it might be fun. Unfortunately, I had a little trouble finding a way directly to continue the story, it having such a sound conclusion to it. So, I've decided I'll put a series of conversations—probably starting at the 'tail-ends', to hold true to tradition—in chapter format. I think I'm going to post about four… So, it won't so much be an ongoing story as it is a documentation of different conversations held between Amelia and Doppler in their relationship. Sound okay? I hope so. Now—go ahead and read! Reviews are greatly appreciated!

There was a moment's hesitation. Doppler had envisioned this moment for a long time; he had often considered how romantic and well placed their first kiss would be, in just the right setting, in just the right mood, and, the most unquestioned detail of all: it would be late in the evening. This, however, was happening somewhere near the brink of dusk, when the clouds were not quite yet tinted with the ivory pink, and the sky was still a crisp blue, not the flaming, more passionate red of a sunset. Also, they were nowhere special; they were only in his library, looking at astronomical encyclopedias and space-adventure novels. The mood seemed the only thing that held any justice to his imaginings. There was a lovely fire going, Amelia had been leaning on his shoulder for a good part of the evening, and he himself proudly noted that he had not labored through too many verbal blunders.

Amelia seemed wont to such impulsive spurts of affection, she being a much more unpredictable creature in romantic tendencies. He, then, concluded that she was merely acting on an extemporaneous approach to romantic encounters, and would regret the impromptu kiss later, after looking back and seeing that they truly were not in the right place and the right time.

Therefore, after his brief analysis of the situation, he could do nothing but decide to save the perfection of the relationship, and perhaps wake Amelia from her spontaneous stupor, by declining to grant anything particularly mushy. So, when the moment came to a point of no backing out, he slid his hand down her fiery hair and along her face, leaned close, and kissed her softly on the nose.

There was a strange pause as Amelia's face first took the expression of surprise, then confusion, and then at last melted into a smile of slightly taken aback derision.

"What was _that_?" she asked him at last.

"That…" he said, an awkward feeling suddenly encompassing him, "That was…er…a… uh, a kiss."

"I'm not your grandmother, Doctor."

Doppler's face flushed, a little embarrassed. "Of course not…"

"Then why go about it on the nose?"

Doppler's hands drew little circles in the air, as if he was trying to encourage the explanation from his mouth. "The particular…uh… rather, the _circumstances_ are…. er….um…"

"Delbert?"

"Yes?"

Amelia tilted her head a little, smiling at him teasingly. "I know you have a number of resplendent words in your vocabulary, and believe me, I do love to hear them… But since you trouble yourself in such great lengths to insert them into a sentence, I much prefer you when you use simpler words. Be concise, darling. It comes easier to you."

Doppler regarded her. When she wore that smile, he had come to discover, he could never be sure whether she was serious in her statements, or merely taking advantage of some new instance in which she could derive fun from criticizing him. It had been his habit, therefore, to compromise with her, and naturally assume she was doing both. Thusly, his cheeks burned with a just visible crimson, both at the fact that she had found something to criticize, and that she had indeed voiced the criticism. Amelia only broadened that indecipherable smile at the sight of his florid visage, and leaned back, as if to take in him in with one sweep of her emerald eyes.

"Well, Doctor?" she asked, lifting both eyebrows in exaggeratedly bright expectancy.

Doppler cleared his throat. "Well, what?"

Amelia dipped her face very close to his, suddenly seeming more serious. Their foreheads touched, and to Doppler's surprise, her lips came within a breath's distance from his.

"I told you be concise," she said in a hush, "not to stop talking."

He took time out to work this into his brain. What he ought to do, it occurred to him, was steal their first kiss without delay. Prove to Amelia that he could be just as extemporaneous as she could, that he wasn't the stuffed shirt that she might think him to be. Show her his ability to be spontaneous and passionate! He surely had the ability somewhere! Forget the right setting or the time, forget that the moon hadn't even begun its ascent into the sky; the time was here and now!

Then he remembered his imaginings. They had been perfect; perfectly placed, perfectly timed, and perfectly romantic. How could he tamper with them? How could reality possibly be any less than the fantasy and still be just right? He cleared his throat again.

"I hadn't stopped talking," he assured her quietly. "I just… I was trying to remember all the small words I might use to be concise."

Amelia drew a slender, quiet hand behind one of his floppy ears and scratched. "Well, if you would _prefer_ to stop talking…"

"No, no…" Doppler assured her, straightening so that their brows were no longer against one another and beginning to think. "Let's see now… Small words…"

Amelia straightened slowly up after he retreated, eyeing him with a lifted eyebrow. At this look, Doppler began to draw circles in the air again. "The…er… circumstances…uh… rather, the _particulars_… er…"

Doppler, in his muddled, rather frenzied search for something to tell her, was surprised by how many circles he was drawing in the air. He reached for his glasses, still sputtering, pulled forth a handkerchief from his vest pocket, and wiped their cleanliness thoroughly for a little while. Still, Amelia simply watched him. He swallowed in mid-prattle, and wiped away any invisible else that might blear his vision. He then set his glasses lightly back upon his nose, replaced the handkerchief, and cleared his throat. It occurred to Doppler that he was waiting for Amelia to jump in and rescue his sentence from his sea of articulated hesitations, but at a quick glance in her direction, he found no real evidence that such a rescue was going to take place.

So he babbled on.

"…In these particular circumstances that have manifested themselves in the preliminaries of our distracted reasoning, Amelia, we have acquiesced dalliance to prevail for too long an interval. The liability that an egregious transgression will be committed is upon us, and I refrain from allowing it. Thusly, I shall transmute the topic of our confabulation. Ever heard of a **Cassegrain Focus?** This is the arrangement of a telescope in which light is reflected from a concave mirror back along the telescope to a convex mirror, which then reflects the light through a hole in the center of the concave mirror to an optical device such as the observer or…"

"…Or perhaps a camera," Amelia finished his sentence with him. Doppler's jaw set hastily when he heard her voice. At last, she was saving him!

"Yes, Doctor, I have heard of Cassegrain Focuses—_you_, actually, were the one who told me about them; _please_, spare me another discourse on them. I'd much prefer to ask you a question."

Doppler, discovering his mouth was void of moisture and that he was somewhat out of breath, found a tremendous relief in the fact that Amelia had at last jumped in and rescued him. This was the way it was supposed to be: Doppler would spurt and sputter in vain until shortly Amelia intervened. She should have saved him sooner. He gulped, tried to answer her but couldn't bear to utter one more syllable, and hence gave a heavy nod in affirmation that she continue.

Amelia inhaled quietly. "Delbert."

"…Yes?"

"Take a deep breath."

Doppler mechanically obeyed. When he inhaled deeply, there was at once a calming effect, and he relaxed.

"Are you all right now?" he heard Amelia ask him.

He nodded. "I believe so."

Amelia patted his hand closest to her. "Good. Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"What in the bloody hell is the matter with you?"

Doppler was, understandably, surprised at her question, but more so at her calm, complacent tone than at the inquiry itself. "I'm sorry?" he croaked.

"What is the _matter_? You've been suffering an anxiety attack for perhaps a good ten minutes now, and I'd rather like to know just what catastrophe has gotten you so panicked."

Doppler stared at Amelia. What _had_ he been so nervous about? Ah! He remembered: the perfection of the setting, the time, and the mood of their first kiss. He shook his head at her, now that he had his bearings back, in almost incredulity that she did not recognize the insurmountable problem at hand. Perhaps the time for osculation was here and now, but what kind of here and now was it? Not the perfect kind, that was certain. He merely wanted it just right. So he tried explaining again.

"In these particular circumstances manifested by the preliminaries…"

But Amelia placed a hushing finger on his lips. "No, Delbert, never mind…Let me rephrase that… _What _makes you think these manifest circumstances we've allowed to prevail are going lead to some error?"

Doppler spoke from under Amelia's finger, "We're too tempted at too inopportune a time."

"I see. Can I ask you something else?"

"Yes."

"What are you talking about?"

Doppler moved away from Amelia and regained his feet. Adjusting his vest and glasses in turn, he finally caressed a thoughtful hand on his brow, and said slowly, "This isn't… perfect."

"Perfect?"

"You don't see it?" he insisted. "The setting isn't right, the moon isn't out, I've depleted any mood that might've been there…This has to _mean_ something."

"Doctor," Amelia drawled blandly, "this is a kiss we're talking about."

Doppler turned to face her again. "I know. But it's _you_ I'm kissing. And I want it be perfect."

This cued a sigh from her. "Oh, Doctor…"

Doppler looked at her. There was a rare hint of genuine affection in her features, spiced by that indecipherable smile that so often implied derision. It was a gentle, teasing, soft expression, which lingered for a small lapse of time, during which the two simply looked at one another.

Then, slowly, Amelia rose from her place and stood, watching him, her face never for an instant changing. She covered the short distance between them, blinked at him slowly, and touched his hand. He couldn't help but wonder at the tenderness of the touch, coming from such a stoic and, though he would never really admit it, intimidating woman as Amelia. Nevertheless, he felt her fingers slowly intertwine with his own, weave in and out, and then withdraw. The same hand then slid up along his arm and rested at his shoulder, at which point she wasted no time, but threw her arms about him and kissed him, full on the mouth.

The regret, if there was any, need not be described. Let it be adequately said that Doctor Delbert Doppler, with no inhibition that might have been expected, kissed Captain Amelia back.


	3. Conversation 3

**Disclaimer: ** I claim no ownership.

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much to all those who have reviewed! I appreciate it immensly!

Conversation 3

"Nervous yet?"

Doppler had not expected the inquiry. He started at it, in all truth, for the pair had been sitting, for a little while, in content silence. Now suddenly Amelia had piped up, and with an inquiry just vague enough for Doppler to have to pursue it before being able to answer. He looked at her with eyebrows raised, clearing his throat.

"Nervous?"

"Yes. You know… Antsy. Apprehensive."

"About what?"

Amelia's answer was blunt and concise, and yet for a moment almost wavering: "Getting married."

Now Doppler understood. He chuckled lightly, glancing at the engagement ring he'd slipped on her finger now several weeks ago. In his secretive and innermost being, he _had_ been nervous. He had been nervous at the dinner preceding the proposal, he had been nervous all throughout the conversation there, he had been nervous on the carriage ride home, and he had been very nervous when he finally popped the question. But after she had said yes—after she'd answered in affirmation with one little word—he hadn't felt nervous at all.

And he had proudly maintained the inner serenity ever since.

Therefore, with great dignity and confidence, Doppler looked her in the eye and said, "No. I'm not nervous at all."

"Oh," said Amelia.

"'Oh'?" Doppler set out to say, but before he could, Amelia added, on a higher note, "That's wonderful, Doctor. I'm very proud of you."

Doppler faltered a moment, still feeling that he ought to repeat her beginning statement and get a clarification on it, but he decided against it, and shut his mouth.

"I would have expected that…" Amelia continued musingly, then looked at him, and thought better of concluding her observation. "Well…"

Doppler's lips pursed a little, slightly offended. "What? That I _would_ be nervous?" he finished for her, his tone more accusing than he had intended.

Amelia laughed quietly at his pursed lips. "_No_," she said heavily.

"That _is_ what you were going to say," Doppler, by his altered tone, informed Amelia rather than accused her. Amelia smiled at him, in gentle bewilderment. "Are you _trying_ to start an argument with me?"

Doppler's brow furrowed. "No, but—"

"Then I see no reason why you pursue it so relentlessly."

Doppler sat, silent for a moment. Here he had thought his conduct had been the farthest thing from nervous it had ever been in years, and apparent, too! He inspected himself inwardly now, for an instant, and still, indeed, failed to find anything nervous in him whatsoever. So he had not lied to Amelia. What had made her think he was nervous?

He determined, after a small lapse of time, that his absence of apprehension had not been apparent _enough_. He was sensitive to the fact that, perceptive as she was, Amelia may have missed that he was not nervous, the signs of which were surely exuding from him. She was, after all, indisputably nothing at all if not entirely calm about the event.

So he straightened himself, looked again at his fiancée, and smiled sheepishly.

"It's true," he conceded. "I should not have pursued it. I apologize."

Amelia looked at him through the corners of veiled eyes. "Apology accepted," she, too, seemed to concede. Doppler resituated himself in his seat.

His mind began to roll around some things that might make his serenity more obvious.

"So," he began, before he had thought of anything to say.

There was a small pause.

Then he lighted upon a subject, "How many guests do you want to invite to the wedding?"

Amelia, her chin resting lightly upon her palm, laughed. "As few as possible!" she answered.

Doppler laughed, too, not only because the reply had struck him as humorous, but to prove that he was not nervous.

"That's all right…" he said generously. "It doesn't really matter to me who's there… Just as long as I marry you."

Amelia smiled at him, but narrowed her eyes as well, hinting at her derision for the whimsical slush he had offered her. She said nothing. Doppler went on.

"Anyway, the guest list can be made a little later. Have you an idea of the dress you'd like to wear?" he asked her, smiling, actually, at the thought of Amelia coming down the aisle in a flourishing bridal's gown.

"Dress? No, I haven't really thought about it yet."

"I see. Well, you still have plenty of time." He thought a moment, and then asked her, "Have you decided who your Maid of Honor will be?"

"I… thought I might ask Mrs. Hawkins…"

"Sarah! Sarah would love to! She'll be thrilled."

"I can only hope."

Amelia was not cooperating. Of course, he reconsidered, how had he expected her to react? Throw her arms about him and cry shrilly, 'Oh, Delbert! You aren't nervous!' perhaps? That was certainly not something Captain Amelia would do. He thought a moment, and decided that, if she would not verbalize her realization, he would simply have to make sure he was getting his message across to her. He would be able to recognize when she was aware that he wasn't nervous. So he concocted another subject to deliver to her.

Of course, he'd suddenly run out of topics he might suggest to her concerning marriage that would prove he had no fear of them. He pondered a good long while, leaving a pause lingering in the room, trying to think up something else. He might ask her what she wanted the Bride's Maids to wear, or what flowers she wanted to carry down the aisle, or what type of cake she wanted to cut at the Reception.

He then waved these ideas away. It was not scary to _plan_ a wedding—it was probable, he thought to himself, that people plan weddings more often than they actually get married. What was scary, what really made people nervous (that he wasn't nervous about at all), was life _after_ the wedding. He had to show her that he wasn't afraid of what would happen after it all—that he, in the most profound definition of the concept, was committed to her.

He now had his new topic.

"So," he began casually, "how does it feel, knowing I'm the last person you'll ever be involved with?"

"I beg your pardon?" Amelia stared at him in a sort of surprised confusion.

Doppler shrugged. "We're getting married. There won't be any more… oh, _dating_, meeting new prospects… We'll always be together."

"I do believe that's why I'm marrying you, Delbert," Amelia replied quickly, a small quip obviously in the offing. "To keep all those women that cling to you daily away."

Doppler smiled. "Well, naturally…" he consented.

Amelia, however, did not have any more to say. Doppler cleared his throat. He didn't think he was making himself clear at all. "Of course," he pressed, "I don't mind at all. I only want to grow old with you."

"Grow _what_?"

"Old. You didn't think you'd be young forever, did you?" He laughed musingly. "I can just see you with grey hair…"

"Grey _what_?" Amelia repeated, her hand involuntarily going to the flaming tresses that fell around her face. The quiet black slits that bisected her emerald irises had dilated somewhat.

Doppler reached out and traced her cheek with his fingers. "Grey hair. And lines around your mouth and eyes…"

"What are you doing?" she asked, pulling away from him as though he were painting the wrinkles on her already. Doppler's hand retreated.

"Nothing… I'm simply… thinking of our life together. Thinking ahead."

"Delbert, darling, you don't have to think _that_ far ahead."

Doppler leaned back in his chair, smiling. "All right. I won't. I'll think of something a little nearer to the future…" And he, indeed, thought through several things in the nearer future that often came after marriage that he wasn't afraid of or nervous about. Finally, something occurred to him; something that he felt certain would prove once and for all that he wasn't nervous about anything his marriage with Amelia might bring.

"Amelia," he said dreamily. "How many children do you want to have?"

Amelia looked aghast. "_Children_?"

"Of course! Can't you see it? Little Delbert, junior…" then he gestured to Amelia willingly, "Or Little Amelia, junior…playing 'pirates' with you in the den, or learning about Cassegrain focuses with me in the Observatory…"

"Delbert—"

"And, of course, our first child will need a little brother or sister for a playmate…"

"Delbert—"

"And everywhere we go with them, people will say they have your eyes…"

"Delbert…"

"Yes, Dear?"

Amelia hesitated. It struck Doppler like a blow how unsure she suddenly seemed. He reached out and gripped her hand. "And, you know, with children eventually come _grand_children…"

"Oh, Delbert, _quiet_!" she rocketed from her seat and stood, her hand having escaped from his grip. Doppler, wide-eyed and agape now, was, although not in answer to her demand, as silent as a startled mouse.

Soon Amelia turned around and faced him. "Why are you talking so incessantly about marriage? Don't you see how _awful_ it is?"

"I'm—"

"Doctor, I'm not finished yet! Your talk of weddings and getting old are raking over my senses, and I command that they cease immediately! Children! Never _once_ have you _ever_ mentioned children before—"

"Children aren't rattlesnakes, Amelia—"

"I know! I know… Of course they aren't, but can you see _me_ with them? Can you see _me_ walking down the aisle in a wedding dress? Can you really see me with…_wrinkles_ all over my face? Oh, Delbert, damn it, I'm _nervous_! And all these bloody things you've mentioned are only making it worse!"

The silence that followed Amelia's confession snapped so that Doppler could have sworn it had been a noise. It lasted for a long time, ringing through the house in its soundlessness for a good two or three minutes, leaving the couple to each gather what had just been disclosed.

Then, after a long time, Doppler's head fell back, and he, perhaps in surprise and perhaps at his own folly, laughed right out loud.


	4. Conversation 4

**Author's Note:** Oh, man. It's been a long time since I updated this story. I'm so sorry! But now (finally) I have a new installment! Yay! This'll be the last conversation to the series of vignettes, I think; it's more of a story, really, but I think it still counts. I sincerely hope you enjoy it, and remember: feel free to leave a review! I absolutely love hearing what you think.

Happy reading!

**Conversation**

"_Fellow astrophysicists… We are fortunate in this Empire to have at our fingertips many of the needed instruments and minds necessary to further our discoveries and understanding of the vast Etherium around us_."

The Board would appreciate his speech to them. He was sure they would like how it flowed together, with no faulty hesitations, no bumbling phrases, and certainly no flimsy anecdote in the beginning. It sounded smooth, clear, and professional; like a fine wine.

Of course, this was no time for business. Fine wine, perhaps, later, but this was much better than _business. _Doppler stared at himself in the mirror. It had been almost forty minutes since he had pulled on his tuxedo, slipped into his cummerbund, and fumbled with his tie before Sarah had straightened it for him. He was nervous again, but not insurmountably. He wanted the ceremony to go just as smoothly as the introduction to his speech, and then have the reception be a warm welcome to the new Mr. and Mrs. Delbert Doppler. He was nervous that something was going to go wrong.

Sarah Hawkins and her son, Jim Hawkins, had had the good grace of attending to Doppler during this flustering time before the wedding. Sarah was standing about, fixing Doppler's lapels and carnation, encouraging him, and offering other sentiments. Jim, now a boy of almost seventeen, sat on the edge of boredom in a chair.

"Sarah…" Doppler muttered, turning and walking toward her apprehensively. "Do you suppose…? Perhaps the string quartet I hired hasn't practiced enough. Perhaps they'll hit a wrong note, or screech, or perhaps…? And then what? I'll…"

"You'll be startled by the mistake," Jim, who had been partially quiet up to this point, offered. "You'll be so startled, in fact, that you'll cry out in surprise. And just to make things worse, just as you scream, Captain Amelia will start her march down the aisle. _She'll_ be startled by your scream and trip over a freak crease in the carpet, and go tumbling to the floor. You, seeing this, will run to help her, but somehow you'll manage to mess up your course and go careening into the table of hors d'oeuvres. You'll be covered in cheese dip and toothpicks and little hotdogs, and the chef—he'll be furious—he'll come rampaging into the room and—"

"Jim!" Sarah scolded her son, silencing the boy at the sight of Doppler's ever paling face. Jim smiled and laughed. "Anything's possible, Mom," Jim concluded, and Sarah shook her head warningly, turning back to Delbert.

The canid looked a little sick. "Oh, Delbert," Sarah winced at his face, which was transitioning from a pallid tone to a tinted green, and she tightened his now loosened tie. "Not… Not _everything_ is possible; you know that. The chances of that actually happening are slim to none. Pay no attention to him."

Doppler pushed passed Sarah gingerly, loosening his tie. "No, no… Yes, you're right. You're right; I have much better chances of each of those violinists blowing up simultaneously than I do in Amelia being so tactless that she'd let herself trip over a crease in the carpet," he admitted, and reached the mirror to watch his reflection as he fixed his glasses. Jim stifled a laugh.

Sarah shot Jim another gentle, admonishing glance, and then averted her gaze to Doppler's reflection in the mirror as he began to speak again. "I'm just—_nervous_," he said, laying an emphasis on the word 'nervous' as though it mildly disgusted him.

"Oh, Delbert," Sarah offered him, "that's _okay_. Come on, now, stiff upper lip—" and she tightened his tie—"What are you nervous about?"

Delbert reached into his left pocket and produced an assortment of note cards. "This _speech_, that's what!"

"Oh, that."

"Yes, _that_." Delbert turned around to face Sarah again. Sarah fussed over his lapels once more before stating comfortingly, "Well, _that_… That's something you're doing for a friend. Snarf… needs you to."

Delbert's Best Man, Snarf, was a Flatulan. He spoke an impaired version of English through his many tubes and whistles, and was practically incomprehensible to everyone except Delbert. An incomparably eloquent speaker in his own language (the much laughed-at yet much-studied language of Flatula) however, Snarf had been one of the few best choices to deliver a speech at the reception. Unfortunately, as he neared the finished composition of ardent and moving syntax, Snarf had been beset with anxiety and despondency that no one at the wedding would be able to understand him if he delivered the speech in English. Thinking nothing of it at the time, Delbert had benevolently offered to deliver the speech for him, which Snarf had excitedly agreed to. Now, however, with both Snarf's heart-warming, tear-jerking words of tenderness and encouragement for Delbert and Amelia, along with the speech he had to deliver to the Board next week swimming in his head, Delbert was feeling slightly overwhelmed. Nevertheless, he suppressed this agitation for what he considered to be the better, and had tried to ignore it as much as possible. This was his wedding day. He wasn't really supposed to be thinking about speeches.

Delbert's tongue slid across his lips. "I know," he told Sarah, stiffening his upper lip. "It's true, there's… nothing to be nervous about. I've just got to be the Board—the bald—the _bold_—the _bold_est I can be."

Jim was almost on his knees for laughter. Sarah, looking at Delbert, was obviously restraining a chuckle of her own. "That's right, Delbert. Be bald."

XXXXXXXX

Delbert couldn't stop grinning. The ceremony could not have gone more smoothly-- there was no freak crease in the aisle; the string quartet's playing was incredible, he hadn't run into any hors d'oeuvres—nothing had gone wrong. In fact, if the philosophy that perfection is nonexistent was true, this ceremony had at least come quite close. Quite close, indeed.

Amelia had donned a kind of fragrant, almost shy appearance when she'd donned her gown, and had stepped down the aisle with tentative, feminine beauty that only Delbert had been allowed notice of until now. Seemingly, however, the wedding gown and the ceremony had been the key to unveiling that hidden, more porcelain quality about Amelia, for as soon as the reception came and she'd changed, her strength was back like nothing had happened to it.

The guests were plentiful. Enthusiastic aunts, great uncles, and first-cousins-twice-removed from both the bride and groom's family mingled with close friends like a group of people who had known each other all their lives. Everybody wanted their chance at congratulating Delbert and Amelia, and, as aforesaid, since the guests were plentiful, so were the congratulations, and Delbert and Amelia got no moment together for some time.

Delbert, although unable to stop grinning, was nevertheless in the process of an escape attempt from a particularly large relative of his, a great-something-or-other whose name was Myrtle, when he spotted Amelia easily excuse herself from a group of bow-tied triplets and their mother, who must have been a guest that a guest had brought. He bid his large relative a short but sweet goodbye, and hurried across the room toward where he had seen Amelia.

When he got there, his new wife had disappeared. He hovered a moment, wondering what his next move should be, until he was pulled quickly into a tight embrace and a kiss trained fully onto his mouth.

Breaking the contact after a while, Delbert pulled away and looked into the very eyes he'd wanted to see all afternoon.

"For a married couple, we don't see much of each other," Amelia commented at last, smiling unusually radiantly.

Delbert looked her over. "You looked…" and Delbert paused dreamily, searching for the exact adjective he wanted to use to describe her. Alighting on a word fairly quickly, he continued, "…You looked _pulchritudinous_ in your wedding dress."

Amelia laughed. "And you looked 'pulchritudinous' in those tails. Your tie, however," Amelia ran her hand down his chest to his tie, and tightened the article, "you loosened during your vows."

"I _did_?" Delbert asked incredulously. "Oh, that must have tormented you."

"It did. Many a comment went through my mind for the duration of the ceremony, of which I think I'll spare you… for now."

"Thank you," Delbert said, kissing her forehead. Then, gingerly, he took her hand. "Do you mind if I stay with you for the rest of the time? I've found it very difficult to leave you."

Amelia lifted her right eyebrow just slightly. "I wouldn't mind at all, sir. I should be extremely happy in your company."

Delbert lifted her hand and kissed it. "Thank goodness," he said, smiling. "Nervous anymore?"

"Not a bit."

The rest of the time was indeed spent with Amelia. They met guests together, and conversed with great-somebody's-grandfather, and who's-other-distant-relative, all having heard about the occasion and thrilled to pieces to be there. Amelia's aunt called Delbert a 'brilliant bibliophile' (which struck him as quite fitting for someone from Amelia's family to say), for, she disclosed, the family had long dismissed the idea of their space captain getting married. Amelia, holding his hand, smiled impishly at this, and stated that it had merely been the _Legacy's_ broken mizzenmast and therefore its incapacitation that had kept her there long enough for Delbert to slip a ring on her finger. Delbert only smiled; he couldn't think of anything to add to this except 'Fellow astrophysicists, we are fortunate in this Empire to have at our fingertips many of the needed instruments and minds necessary to further our discoveries and understanding of the vast Etherium around us'.

In fact, as the time to deliver Snarf's oration drew nearer, he could not drive either of the impending speeches from his mind. He enjoyed greeting and conversing with the guests; Amelia could remember all the family's names that she had ever met, however briefly, with such quickness she sometimes had the name before Delbert did, even if the guest was one of his relation. It was a wonder to behold, but Delbert could not stay focused upon the topic the guest would bring up, and Amelia would carry the conversation as Doppler swam around, suddenly mightily distracted by the two speeches jumbling in his head. He wanted to have a part in his Reception and not a nervous breakdown over one silly speech delivery, but for whatever reason he could not stop thinking about it. How did Snarf's speech begin? 'Fellow witnesses to this bright occasion… love is good, and healing, and happy—and we are gathered here to witness the holy matrimony of these two souls, whose love for one another has brought them hither, in this holy setting to be wed, now to be together 'till death do they part, exactly as it should be for man and wife.' Just the introduction, Delbert recognized, would send the whole gathering to tears; this realization only increased the anxiety, for he now knew that he had to get it just right.

This anxiety went on for the rest of the Reception and on to the Reception dinner soon after, when Amelia finally inquired upon his wide-eyed mesmerization.

"Delbert, darling, you look like an addled fish. What's happened?"

She was sitting close beside him at the center of a table stationed in the head of the room, looking out upon all the guests in attendance, where they were seated at little, rounded tables with food placed happily before them. Sarah, Jim, and Snarf, as well as a few of the ushers and bridesmaids, were seated on the outer edges of the table where Amelia and Delbert sat, occupying themselves quite nicely.

Delbert shrugged and fixed his glasses. "Nothing has happened… It's what's _going_ to happen that's bothering me."

"What's _going_ to happen, then?"

"You remember Snarf's speech. You know the whimsical offer I made him about delivering it for him," Delbert sighed, putting his fork down. He was the happiest he'd ever been in his life, if it wasn't for this oration he had to worry about!

"Oh, that," Amelia said quietly.

"Yes, _that_," Delbert drawled, feeling strangely as if he'd already shared this conversation with someone. "I can't seem to put it out of my mind. It's almost fully undressed me—_dis_tressed me. It's almost fully _dis_tressed me." Silently Delbert cursed himself; what an embarrassing fumble.

Amelia tilted her head just slightly, dismissing his blunder for the time being. She touched his arm encouragingly. "You'll do fine, Delbert. Surely you're prepared to deliver it?"

Delbert nodded unsurely. "I think… I don't know. I've been running it through my head for some time and I seem to have it memorized, but…"

"What?"

"I have a speech to deliver to the Board as well, you know. I get the two jumbled up."

Amelia's hand retracted from his arm to stifle the smile that flew to her features. "Oh, Delbert!" she laughed. "You _mix_ them _up_?"

Delbert looked at her. "And why not?" he asked lightly. "I'm only the most reliable in my tongue-twisting. Do you know that about a week ago I got the two jumbled up during just the introduction? I began by saying, 'Fellow astrophysicists, we are fortunate in this Empire to be gathered here to witness the holy matrimony of the instruments and minds necessary to further our understanding of the vast man and wife."

Amelia closed her eyes tightly, her fingertips still pressed against her lips, in an attempt to control her laughter. Presently she succeeded, and drew in a deep breath. "Well," she stated thoughtfully, "better to call the man and wife vast during a rehearsal instead of now."

"That's just it, though, I'm almost positive I'll do something like that again. I'll embarrass everybody, including Snarf. Including _you_. I don't want to do that today."

Amelia smiled and shook her head. "You won't, Doctor. Very little you do anymore will embarrass me."

Delbert laughed once. "Thanks," he said wryly.

Amelia bent towards him a little and kissed him lightly. "You'll do beautifully."

Delbert wet his lips. A slight guilt began to grip him as Amelia replaced her hand upon his arm and turned her attention to Sarah at her right. Delbert was worrying over nothing at all, and even worse, worrying on his wedding day. He scolded himself reproachfully—who did he think he was? And to voice his trivial anxiety to his brand new wife, one who deserved all of his attention on such a day!

He stopped wringing his hands on the table. What _was_ he so worried about? He had delivered speeches before, of all sorts of genres. Perhaps not two orations in so short a time expanse, but there was a first time for everything. Life had shown him that.

Amelia had shown him that. Amelia—the woman he was marrying—she had shown him so many things. She had shown him that he was much stronger than he had believed. Ever since Treasure Planet—ever since he had met her—he was discovering new things about himself that he never thought were there before. There was a confidence that emanated from Amelia whenever he or anyone else was around her, and Delbert had found with elatedness that she could transfer some of that exquisite energy if she so pleased. He could do anything and be anything when he was with Amelia.

Delbert reached into his pocket and pulled forth the note cards of Snarf's Best Man speech for Amelia and him. Scanning the script with his eyes, he could remember each word and sentence, each bright connotation and fluttering, flawlessly constructed phrase and fawning diction. Upon reading the written word, he felt a slow, a steady relief seep into him. He did not feel nervous anymore.

These words that Snarf had written down articulated in the English word every single, loving emotion he had ever known for Amelia. How could he feel nervous about orating such beautiful prose when it came directly from his heart? Well—it had come from Snarf's head, but the meaning, the very core of the lines were a mirror image of everything Delbert had wanted to say, to make known, to Amelia. He simply hadn't had the words for it. Now he had. What had he been so nervous about? There was now nothing he wanted to do more.

"…Delbert," he heard Amelia address him suddenly. Snapping his head back up, he looked into his wife's radiant eyes, and heard the pixie ring of spoons hitting glasses.

"It's time to deliver Snarf's speech," Amelia informed him gently. He smiled. "I suppose I can't keep them waiting," Delbert said, replacing the note cards into his pocket. He wouldn't need them anymore.

Standing, he felt as though his head hovered twenty feet above him. He took in a deep breath, gazing around at the friends and family that had come in honor of his wedding to Amelia. Amelia—the woman he loved. The woman he belonged with. The woman he was about to give a speech for.

He raised his wine glass. This was it.

The last thought that flitted through his mind before he spoke was how much the Board would appreciate his speech to them.

"Fellow astrophysicists. We are fortunate in this Empire to…"


End file.
